The Petals of the Heart
by TheFleetingFlash
Summary: Lightning struggles to sleep during the early hours of World B, and Firion comes along to both express his emotions and relish in Lightning's company. R&R, please ?


Sleepless. That was what Lightning had been. Since she had been forced into this realm of relentless war, she hadn't slept a wink. The only thing she could do was sit, wait and watch the crimson and white whirlwind of Chaos power circle the mountains of World B. Weary eyes would survey this derelict, constant sight of that cycle. The constant triumph, the constant failure. An unsettled, uneven clash between two powers. Deep thoughts of why she was here, why she was fighting and how she could gain her crystal ran amok through her mind, causing aqua eyes to flicker to her apparel of which was concealing her Pulse L'Cie mark. The outline was familiar, but she couldn't remember a single thing about it. It felt as if the memory was fresh, on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite recall the words to remember such a thing. Her gaze then lifted, back skywards, up to the aura that lured her closer to the throne of the God of Discord.

'Hey, sis. Let's keep fightin', okay?' A quiet voice intruded her mind. She knew it. She knew the voice, but was clueless of whom it was. A deep sigh threw these countless, hollow memories aside as if they were trash. Yet, that was right. Memories happened to be trash without the basics. A typical Lightning way of thinking, of course. More thoughts, more empty, ridiculously vague memories.

All of a sudden, a voice threw her train of thought aside, where it crashed and burned, vividly casting memories as far away as possible.  
"What a surprise. Lightning. What are you doing up at this time? I thought Yuna and Zidane were taking up watching duties for tonight." Ah, Firion. She glanced over her shoulder at the tall, armour-clad male. His face was bright, radiated upon in a blood red haze, replicating the sky's shade. Clanking of metal apparel, and the silver-haired warrior sat himself next to the pinkette, propping one leg up and resting his head upon his knee, his face pointing towards the distance, though his hazel eyes surveying Lightning.  
"I didn't feel like sleeping." Was all the pink haired ex-Valkyrie had to reply with. "And I could ask the same thing. Why aren't you sleeping?"  
A low, slightly amused chuckle erupt from the male's throat, shaking his head and closing his eyes, basking in the company of such a female warrior.

"I came to tell you something. Though it may sound... reckless and ridiculous."

"Spit it out."

Firion nodded and let a sigh slip from between his lips, his leg placing down and his head tilting backwards. Damn, he was nervous as hell.

"Hm." He grunted, slipping his hand into one of his pockets to pull out the Wild Rose of which the both of them shared a deep connection to. Instantly, the thirteenth Cosmos warrior looked over to it, staring at the glistening petals of pink and the vibrant green of the stem. The second Cosmos warrior smiled in the slightest, offering the rose to the pinkette. A feminine hand reached forth to take the sparkling object within her palm, observing its beauty.

"What about the Rose, Firion?"

"Well, Light. I've been meaning to tell you that the reason I cherish the rose so much is because..." He paused, inhaled a deep breath and continued. "It signifies the trust I share with you."

Lightning's cheeks flared crimson, but only for a second, before they returned to their beautiful shade of light beige, looking down towards the ground to conceal a gentle smile. Her hand moved forth to hold it back to Firion, her eyes replicating the movement. Yet they moved upwards, to look upon the silverette's face, cerulean oculars meeting those of hazel. Their eyes held, and it seemed as if they both felt a small tingle of electricity jolt through their spines. The armoured male reached his own hand forwards, rattling the metal of his apparel as his palm placed itself next to Lightning's smaller hand, the both of them holding the rose in their hands. The pinkette moved closer to press one of a gentle, chaste kiss to the Weaponsmaster's lips, pulling away and making sure that their foreheads nestled together.

They sat there, relishing in each other's company, lit by only the red clash of war within the skies, surrounded by the freshly grown grass, its appearance wet with early morning dew.

"I guess you've really nurtured the petals of the heart, Firion." 


End file.
